Steve’s Unhealthy Habit of Fighting Every Bully in New York Actually C
by ThisOrder
Summary: Steve is doing the usual, defending the local unfortunates against bullies, only this time Bucky’s intervention results in him learning something about his pal, and a thing or two about himself.


Steve was propped against the wall of the corner store waiting for Bucky, who was getting his payday treat. They'd go home, Bucky would offer him some of it, he'd refuse—it was expensive; he deserved something just for himself for once—then they'd end up sharing it anyway.

He jolted to attention as harsh yelling drifted over from nearby; keeping to the wall, he edged closer. As loud jeers echoed from just around the corner of a familiar alleyway, he froze.

"...come on, bulldyker, you just ain't had someone like me yet," a voice drawled, followed by a smack and someone crying out. A group of mugs laughed, but he couldn't how many were there. Steve glanced back down the street; Bucky was still in the store.

Deciding to just go for it and get in as many hits as he could before they'd notice what had hit them, he darted around the corner, his attack coming to a halt as he took in three of the ruggedest guys he'd ever seen. He'd taken on four, five at a time before, rather unsuccessfully—but that wasn't the point—all of them together would have a tough time dealing with these guys. Shit.

One glance at the victim, however made him even more determined to get rid of the bullies. Bruises both fresh and faded littered her arms, there was a mark on her face quickly getting redder, and her shirt was torn open. Her eyes, having flashed with hope, soon dulled as she took him in.

"Hey, don't you boys have anything better to do?" He glared straight up at the one who seemed to be in charge. "Don't get me wrong, this is very brave to have three of you against one, only I'd assume a big guy like you'd be a bit less of a chicken!"

His nostrils flared, and seeming to forget his first target momentarily, he squared his shoulders, bearing down on Steve. "Shoulda known the queer'd have a friend." He grabbed his collar, Steve feigning to struggle before he swung, hard, socking him in the jaw.

Red flooded his cheeks, and he slammed Steve against the wall, knocking the air out of him. "You're gonna regret that, you little fairy!"

Adrenaline took over, and he managed to get in a hit or two where he could, but he was already wheezing. He could see the dame getting it even worse that him as she fought back, so he fought harder, grabbing a rusty pipe from nearby and swinging it, but he was already too weak for it to do any damage.

He could feel his knees giving out, unable to inhale for seconds at a time. A hand closed around his throat, and he could only hope that she'd get away, that his interference hadn't made things worse for her. Through the pounding overtaking his head, he heard someone yell "Hey!" behind him.

Suddenly the pressure was gone, and he gasped in and out wildly, dragging himself to a place where he could sit up straight. Relief bloomed in his chest at seeing Bucky landing punch after punch on the ringleader.

Steve struggled to his feet, and with rekindled strength, together they all managed to knock over one guy, the other scampering off, soon followed by his crony. They spun around, fists raised, but the leader was on his knees, smirking up at Bucky.

"Damn, if it ain't Bucky Barnes, stickin' up for the queers. Who'd a thought?"

"Get outta here," Bucky said, his tone laced with disgust. The bully spat at him, but dragged himself to his feet and jogged away.

"Steve?" He whipped around urgently as soon as the guy had stumbled away and took his forearms gently. "You need some tea? We could try to borrow one of those pneumo...things from—"

He shook his head, despite the burning in his lungs and the fact that he might collapse any moment, and turned around to face the dame, who was kneeling, hand braced against the wall. She clutched at her stomach, trembling despite her defiant expression.

"You okay?" Steve approached her slowly. She nodded, seeming confused. "I'm Steve an' this is Bucky," he offered his hand and pulled her up.

"Frankie," she tugged at her shirt which didn't do much what with all the tears. Bucky spotted her jacket on the ground and passed it to her. "Thanks." She pulled out a hanky to hold against her nose, which was bleeding at a somewhat alarming rate. Now that Steve really looked at her, he noticed that she was at least a few years younger than him.

"That doesn't look too good. Want us to walk you home and help patch you up?" Steve suggested, but her face grew more closed in and she tensed up. If home wasn't an option, or she just didn't want them to know where she lived, that was fine, but he knew that it wouldn't be safe for her to walk home by herself. "Whereabouts do you live? At least we can walk you part of the way to avoid a run-in with any other twits."

"Well, alright." She replied reluctantly.

They spent most of the walk dancing around the subject of why she'd been cornered in the first place. They talked about the news lately, the increase in drafting posters even though there was no official call yet, but his friend was unusually silent. Sure, Bucky wasn't the most enthusiastic when it came to the idea of the army, but he usually had a thing or two to say.

Steve swallowed heavily. It must be about the kid, the alley where it had happened—outside that queer joint—even if Bucky hadn't heard their crude language he'd have worked it out. He wracked his brain, trying to recall if he'd ever heard Bucky share his opinion on people like him before. He came from a fairly liberal family when it came to other issues, but he just didn't know about this one.

He tried to make eye contact with him, but he ran a hand through his hair and looked away. Steve could feel tension building in his stomach. If he didn't have Bucky, he didn't have anyone.

He nearly bumped into Frankie as she stopped abruptly. Another girl was crossing the intersection ahead of them.

"Ruth!" She yelled and quickened her pace.

"Frankie?" She whipped around, horror blooming as she caught her friend, who'd abandoned any bravado she'd had to wrap her arms around her. The newcomer quickly turned defensive as she manoeuvred their position to stand in front of her and stare the boys down. Frankie quickly put a hand on her arm.

"No, no! They're alright, they helped me out of a tough spot, baby, I'll explain when we get home—" She covered her mouth in horror, but narrowing her eyes and looking between him and Bucky she seemed to find something there that made her relax. Steve's cheeks burned but her assumption didn't make him feel nearly as unpleasant as it should have.

"Well, we can manage the rest of the way. And uh..." she rubbed the back of her neck. "Thanks, really."

"Hey, don't mention it."

Frankie took Ruth's arm to start back home. "Hey, kid?" Steve called out suddenly, not giving himself any choice but to say it. "Try the Sullivan street exit next time, it gets less attention." Her ears reddened, but she nodded and turned around again.

Now Bucky was staring at Steve in what seemed to be puzzlement with a hint of something else underneath. Steve felt his face grow hot, but if Bucky wasn't going to say anything then neither was he.

Steve thought he could actually feel a string pulled taut between them as they walked home, that was how tense it felt, and Bucky's sideways glances didn't go unnoticed. Steve was starting to feel like he had a colourful banner floating above him that read "Queer! Queer! Queer!"

Unable to bear it any longer, he wheeled around and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "Buck, if you have something to say then say it."

The next thing Bucky said was so quiet, Steve almost missed it. "I didn't know that happened...'round here."

"What?" Steve relaxed a little, surprised at how nervous his friend seemed.

"I mean...maybe I just never saw too much of it, but s'far as I know most people here don't ask questions an' you can just live your life. Be who you want and...with who you want."

The earnest look in his eyes as he finally lifted his head made Steve launch forward and wrap him up in a hug, holding tight and heaving a relieved sigh. Bucky froze at first, then held him back just as firmly. Steve shivered as Bucky's breath grazed his ear.

"Stevie," he murmured. "End of the line. Nothing that happens along the way'll change that."

"I know Buck." Steve muttered against his chest, horrified to feel tears prick his eyes. He untangled himself from the embrace reluctantly, unable to hide a small smile when Bucky kept an arm around him.

"Although," Bucky patted his shoulder, with a smirk. "Can't say I'm not surprised, I really thought you were going steady with that broad, Elizabeth before."

In all of his guiltily shoved away imaginings of how this conversation would go, he'd never quite imagined it like this, so he spluttered for a moment before he found the words. "Some folks swing both ways, Buck..." He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the same way he had when his mother'd pulled him aside a few years ago to have what she called a Talk.

"Oh." His friend seemed genuinely flabbergasted. "I didn't—oh."

As they began to walk, Steve's knees started to shake, and he swayed a little. Bucky grabbed his waist, steadying him.

"Steve..." Bucky pressed experimentally into his side, and what he normally would have enjoyed, now felt like several blunt knives poking at him, and he couldn't stifle a hiss. "Jesus, Steve, you shoulda told me! I'm taking you home to check it out."

"I'm fine." He said halfheartedly as Bucky shook his head, then propped him up and practically carried him the rest of the way back.

He only let go of him to grab the spare key and unlock the door, and quickly had his arm around his waist again. Steve wasn't complaining.

Bucky sat him on the counter in the bathroom and grabbed his hem to assess the damage, but Steve pulled back suddenly.

"Shit, sorry. I hurt you, Stevie?" Bucky asked, touching his wrist lightly, with only concern in his eyes, not revulsion or hesitation. A part of him had thought things would be different now that Bucky knew. Still thought. He shook his head, shivering as the shirt came off. He couldn't help folding into himself slightly as Bucky sighed. "Steve..." he started, but just pinched the bridge of his nose and went to the kitchen.

To be fair, he might have been a little more banged up than usual, but it was nothing he couldn't handle. He grimaced, poking at the deep purple bruises forming on his abdomen, and didn't even want to look in the mirror; the sting above his left cheekbone and the dull ache everywhere else told him it wouldn't be pretty.

Bucky returned with a couple cloths full of ice and frowned, realizing all over again how bad it was. He placed one against his cheek and the other on the worst area of his stomach, and Steve held them while he got the bandages from the cabinet.

It was funny how different this normal action was. For some reason his carefully repressed feelings seemed to think it was okay to come out now, possibly even stronger than usual. He was aware of every movement, each brush of Bucky's fingers as he dabbed his cheek with a wet cloth. With each careful, tender press, pleasant tingles spread down his spine, and he tried to look anywhere other than at the strand of hair fallen over Bucky's forehead, or the way his brow furrowed or his lips were pursed in concentration.

When he'd finished, he placed the band-aid, his fingertips lingering far too long on his cheek, setting Steve's heart a-fluttering even more now. Bucky's attention went to his chest and stomach. He pressed along his rib cage, and Steve winced. "Breathe for me," he said, moving his hands up and down his chest and back, and that was it. He'd officially kicked the bucket right there, in the bathroom, with Bucky's hands all over him.

"Well I don't think you broke anything this time." Bucky said wryly. "But Steve, you can't keep doing this, 'specially now it's getting colder."

Steve sighed. Bucky always managed to bring up his asthma even if it wasn't that bad. "An' I know you're not gonna listen to a single word I say but just be careful?" He implored, Steve caught gazing into his eyes. He swallowed uncomfortably.

"Buck, I didn't mean to worry you, just she was getting hurt! I couldn't do nothing—"

"I know Steve," he placed his hands on his shoulders, rubbing back and forth lightly, head tilted up in exasperation. He leaned in towards him, and for a wild moment Steve thought he was going to kiss him, but he just tilted their foreheads together and wrapped his arms around him.

The hands on his bare back and this closeness weren't anything new, but his skin was alive with heat and goosebumps and he wanted more. So much more that it scared him. Even if Bucky wasn't turning away from him now, his good-naturedness probably wouldn't last if he knew how Steve felt about him.

So he just enjoyed it while it lasted, hands itching to grasp Bucky's shirt or wrap around him, tuck his head under his chin.

As if he'd heard him, Bucky moved closer to Steve, standing between his legs, wrapping his arms fully around him, and it was too much. Steve jerked away, slid off the counter and grabbed his shirt. Seeing the apology already forming, Steve cut him off.

"Bucky, you didn't—I'm just..." he trailed off, having absolutely no idea what he could even say at this point that wouldn't give it away. "I'm gonna get a clean shirt." He said flatly and dashed out of the room.

Bucky followed him; of course he did. He stayed facing the dresser, prolonging the time till he had to tell him something. But what could he say? Hey Buck, could you stop doing things that make me think there's a chance you feel the same? That make me want to do things with you that make my heart race and that I never dare to think about for too long around other people... He turned around, staring at the floor.

"Stevie, what's going on?" He said weakly, making it hard to keep from running over and smoothing his hands through his hair, whispering that it'd be okay. "You've been acting real different lately, an' I didn't want to say anything but," he paused. "Look if I'm spending too much time over here just say so and I'll back off."

Steve hadn't been expecting that. Since Bucky's hours had changed, they'd both agreed it'd make more sense for him not to go all the way home some nights and to just stay at Steve's place. "No!" He said too quickly. "Buck, that's not it at all."

"Then what's going on?" He approached cautiously till their chests were almost touching. "Steve, I just want things to go back to..." he sighed. "To be alright between us." Steve hung his head, out of excuses. Suddenly Bucky's fingertips were tilting his chin up ever so gently, and he was whispering "Stevie, tell me what's wrong, I'll make it better," and gazing into his eyes and Steve couldn't help it.

He leaned in towards him and pressed the tiniest kiss at the corner of his mouth. Bucky's breath hitched. He closed his lips over Bucky's, shaking with need, grasping his waist for support, but Bucky leapt back, hitting the bed frame.

Steve went cold. Bucky hadn't wanted this, hadn't kissed back. He'd got it all wrong. He backed away, heating up now, his head was pounding, and he didn't even know if he was babbling apologies or excuses when he realized Bucky had moved closer.

"Wait, Steve..." his eyes were slightly unfocused, thinking. When he looked at him properly, he seemed to have resolved something. "Stevie, could we..." his cheeks reddened. "...maybe try that again?"

His hopes were crushed as he realized that of course Bucky just felt sorry for him, he was trying to be a gentleman. "Buck, I don't want your pity."

He linked their hands together lightly. "But what if I want to?" His voice quieted to a hoarse whisper, his eyes dark. He licked his lips and Steve launched himself at him.

Their noses collided but their laughs quieted as Bucky's teeth found his bottom lip and tugged just a little. Steve let out a not-quite moan and opened his mouth; suddenly the only thing that mattered was touching him, tasting him, being absolutely entangled and enveloped in each other.

Steve tugged Bucky's shirt out of his waistband and slid his hand up his chest, nails scratching at it slightly. Bucky groaned, mumbling his name.

"Steve wait," he said louder, grabbing his wrists, to hold him still. Steve recoiled. Had he gotten it all wrong again? Bucky's rolled his eyes.

"Stevie, stop thinking so hard." He pressed the tiniest, driest kiss on his nose, which somehow felt even more intimate than what they'd done before. "We have to fix dinner."

Steve nodded glumly and rested his forehead against Bucky's chest.

"But after..." he looked up sharply and blushed at seeing Bucky lick his swollen lips, cheeks flushed bright red.

Neither of them quite knew what 'after' entailed, but if Steve cracked a plate imagining the possibilities, and if Bucky burnt the potatoes watching Steve set the table, well neither one was going to admit it.


End file.
